


Not Green but Chrome

by Danny (DannyC)



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyC/pseuds/Danny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before, she dreams of the Green Place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Green but Chrome

Before, she dreams of the Green Place.

She dreams of the Green Place, far from the sand, where there are smiles and laughs, things she knows she doesn’t remember but thinks she does. They are whispers, feather-light on skin, far from what she is used to. 

She dreams of the Green Place, where she is not a thing but a she, a person, free. She tries to believe something like that is possible, that she is more than what she is, has always been. More than a Bride and Breeder, more than this. More.

During, she can’t sleep, not here, not now.

She can’t sleep, not here, not now. It’s fast and loud and dangerous, and while she is Capable of many things, she struggles. He is coming with his War Boys, with Pole Cats and anti-seeds and other terrors. They ride, hard and fast and wild, and she is afraid.

She can’t sleep, not here, not now. Not with the others trailing so close behind, with a mad man in front and a mad man behind. Who is worse, he who sits beside Furiosa or he who chases her? She does not know and it brings no comfort, but they are not things and she is Capable.

She sleeps more easily though she shouldn’t. She dreams of the Green Place, of where their War Rig takes them, of a desert full of red and flame and chrome littering the sand. Valhalla has never called to her, but she wants no part of a place like that. Her lips feel like the earth, cracked and broken and scarred, or perhaps they are his.

She sleeps well, tucked against his chest, scars pressing into her skin as she presses into his. He wants to help, the War Boy, and so does she. There are many things he does not know, and she will show him more than tree things when they reach the Green Place. They need no Valhalla when they have what feels like hope. She is Capable, he is not fodder, they are not things.

After, she does not dream of the Green Place.

She does not dream of the Green Place but of the Road. She dreams of smiles, his and the two others, scars on skin like rock, machine parts in place of body. She dreams of blue, more blue than all of the Aqua Cola in the world, the blue of eyes behind black grease. She dreams of lips that whisper Witness Me like a prayer and promise and salvation, blood and chrome staining the sand. She dreams of her War Boy, not fodder, not a thing but a man, free.


End file.
